


Just Filth (Pt. 1)

by MermaidMecha



Series: Sanguinala 2020 [5]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Edgeplay, Exhibitionism, M/M, Sex Toys, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidMecha/pseuds/MermaidMecha
Summary: If Sanguinius got through this meeting without incident, he'd rip out Perturabo's throat himself.
Relationships: Horus/Sanguinius (WH40K), Perturabo/Sanguinius
Series: Sanguinala 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, um I'm not sure how to tag or warn about anything on this one. It's just...filth. Am I embarrassed? Yes. Am I sorry? No....I'm kind of proud of this one. 
> 
> This one is for me.

Perturabo would not live to see another Terran sunset if Sanguinius lived through this meeting. It was going to be a long one; all of his brothers were there to discuss future crusades and protection of homeworld systems under the newly crowned Warmaster Horus. It would be a shame, all this discussion for the future only for Sanguinius to get his hands around Perturabo's neck the moment they were done. He'd apologize to Horus later for the first Primarch to be killed (outside of their father's orders) would be under his watch. Maybe if he apologized nicely Horus would at least _help_ him with his current...problem.

Too trusting, Sanguinius had fallen right into the IVth's well-played trap. He'd asked the Angel to help him with testing a new "weapon" in the morning. Idiotic, gullible Sanguinius had jumped at the chance to spend time with his aloof, somewhat spiteful brother. 

Now, he was walking into a meeting that should have been all about how each of them can aid and support Horus in his new position with thick beads filling him to the point they rub his prostate on every third step. It's maddening. His cock is painfully hard with a tight ring both at the base and under the head of his cock. The one under the head had a hook with a single bead as well, one that stroked and rubbed the slit of his cock if he so much as brushed it. It was so much, so good. If he was anywhere else, if the Imperium didn't need him at his best, he'd be writhing, eyes rolling back as he tried desperately to get himself off. He was already considering how to best do that. Warp, could he even make it through this? Would his brothers notice? Could he imagine them watching him rock himself back onto the anal beads to completion? Fuck, he can't even cum. That means he'd just rock himself to that high and say there. Perturabo would leave him there as well. Till his mind was broken. 

He considered wearing his armor to make this, well, less obvious to the others. But, Perturabo, the bastard, had argued against it. He was right too. It was uncommon for the Angel to don his heavy armor outside of battle. Especially, here in the safety of the halls of Terra. Should he wear his armor, he might even attract more attention. Armor would also add valuable minutes to the torture he'd have to endure with these toys. Not to mention how uncomfortable warm he would have been. 

Damned Gods, this was _embarrassing_. He was a Primarch. The Great Angel of Baal. The Emperor’s spear. He should be able to handle more than a little teasing. He cursed himself for the fifth time that morning for falling for his brother’s gentle and sweet charms. Sanguinius had never seen Perturabo so gentle with anyone before, at least when he knew someone was watching. There had been a few times when they were all younger, that he had wrapped his cloak around a sleeping Magnus’ shoulders or gave a whisper of inspiration to a frustrated Fulgrim. Though, those moments had been rare. Sanguinius had never experienced the Lord of Iron’s gentle, confident touch until early this morning. If he quelled his anger and was honest to his heart, he was still reeling from it. 

He sighs. Embarrassing and angry as he was, Sanguinius had agreed to this stupid situation under honeyed words and whispers of affection. Curse his weak heart. 

“Been a while since we all got together like this, eh?” Leman’s voice rattles the thoughts right out of Sanguinius’ head. He doesn’t register how close he is till a wandering hand caresses his wing. The Angel has half the mind to toss him off with it. 

“Regardless, it is rather wonderful. All of us being here toge-” 

Russ cuts off his words by suddenly grabbing a handful of his ass, and that forces the toy inside him to shift to press firmly on his prostate. It takes every ounce of willpower not to outright moan. Because every bit of his fragile will power is going into not moaning in front of Russ and the two Custodes guarding the foyer to the war room, he doesn’t smack his brother’s hand away instantly either. Russ seems to take that as permission to start _kneading one of the globes of his ass_. 

Sanguinius funnels the shutter that wrecks through him into his frustration. His frustration at his hard cock trapped against his thigh in the tight leggings his stupid brain decided would be a good choice for the day, the feeling of precum gathering at the tip of his cock despite the rings Perturabo put there, and the audacity of Leman Russ to fondle him in front of their father’s warriors. It’s all too much. Sanguinius has his fangs bared at Russ the moment he can’t take it anymore, an inhuman hiss coming from his throat. 

Wrap and Chaos, he was supposed to be a bastion of peace, light, and nobility, yet here he was hissing with his fangs bared at his playful brother. 

Russ snatches his hand away as if Sanguinius had burned him. The unspoken threat having worked wonders. The Wolven King is already retreating far away, nearly hiding behind Khan. Sanguinius allowed him a moment of pride and amusement. He gets to truly bask in that feeling only for a few seconds before the beads inside him seem to buzz to life. He whimpers quietly before he can muffle it. Sanguinius covers his mouth the moment the sound leaves him. The Custodes don’t move, but he can feel the eyes of one of them on him. 

Sanguinius moves quickly inside, lest he dies of embarrassment in the hall. 

“You’re doing rather terribly.” Perturabo saunters in behind him, voice hushed so the others won’t hear. Between Russ’ antics in the hall and Perturabo’s, ah, “weapon testing'' this morning, the two have nearly made him late. At least they’re a few of them they’re still waiting on. 

“Come now, brother, I think he’s doing rather well.” Fulgrim is following right on Perturabo’s heels. The smirk on the Phoenician’s face tells Sanguinius everything. _He knows_. _Perturabo told him_. 

The Lord of Iron scoffs at Fulgrim. Suddenly, the vibrations get so much more intense than Sanguinius nearly collapses. Fulgrim is quick to right him before most of the other Primarchs notice. Sanguinius does lock eyes with Horus though. The beautiful, strong Lunar Wolf’s eyebrows knitted with concern. Horus should never look like that. Sanguinius only wants to see him smile, to help him rise. Today should be about Horus. Oh, if only he was stronger. The Angel knows he’s panting and flushed in Fulgrim’s arms. 

“Now, now, Pertury, you promised to him you’d play fair.” Fulgrim soothes a hand over his stomach. If the Custodes hand thought Russ’ display was provocative, they should see Fulgrim mow. The display is drawing a few more eyes. His skin feels hot and flushed, so he tries to focus on Horus. Sweet Horus, who remains concerned. The buzz finally dies down, and Sanguinius gives a relieved sigh. 

They exchange a few more quiet words, but Sanguinius is focusing on standing on his own two feet and controlling his breathing. He watches Perturabo take his seat at the table leaving him alone with Fulgrim. 

“Prove me right, dear one.” Fulgrim places a light kiss behind one of his ears. His hands trail away as he goes to Ferrus’ side. 

The Angel takes his seat beside Horus, and the Warmaster’s hand finds its way to his thigh. He gives the thigh a reassuring squeeze before tapping out a quick. 

_You alright?_

It's not quite morse code. The soft taps and drags of his finger against the sheer thin fabric keeping his thigh from the rawness of Horus’ touch is their own messy little language. They had made it for moments like this. For moments of weakness in front of their sons which they could comfort each other without cracking the facade as demigod children of the God-Emperor. 

_Okay. Don’t worry._

He taps back on the back of Horus’ hand. Sanguinius gives him a genuine smile before he laces their fingers together. This display of affection, he hardly cares about. Their hands are firmly hidden under the table, and even if they could see their brothers already know. 

Horus only pulls away when the last of their brothers, Alpharius, takes his place at the table. Then, without Horus’ touch to distract him, it sets in that this is going to be as difficult as Sanguinius originally thought. Sitting has forced the thick beads deeper inside, they’re firmly pressed into that bundle of nerves inside him. It’s not so bad if he stays still, but every movement grinds and rubs his prostate. The feeling is going to drive him insane. 

He’s watching each of his brothers talk, discussing deployments. Sanguinius is watching them, and he’s trying to listen, trying desperately. However, the words don’t seem to find a place to rest inside his skull. Still, Sanguinius is trying to focus on their important war meeting and not on grinding his hips down to rock the toy inside him. 

From the corner of his eye, Sanguinius can see Perturabo’s smug grin. It takes a bit of strength not to scowl at him. 

The toy roars to life once again, the mere thought of that scowl dies instantly. Sanguinius squeezes his thighs together on instinct. It's so intense. He has to force himself to breathe slowly to keep from moaning. Horus is glancing at him again. _Fuck_ , he must be panting, and he can feel he’s making a mess against his thighs now. 

Sanguinius is trying to focus on his breathing, looking at Horus who's talking now. He gives a gentle nod. He can’t hear past the roar in his ears, but whatever he’s saying he’s sure it’s for the best. His body wants desperately to cum but those awful rings. Instead of that sudden release, it’s a slow trickle. His leggings are a mess. 

Fulgrim gives him a reassuring nod. Whatever bet Fulgrim’s made, Sanguinius has no idea if he can last through this. They’re barely two hours in. 

Dorn stands. He begins his presentation, saying something about Inwit’s battle strength, and suddenly the vibrations are so strong. His mind goes blank as he tries to cum. All he knows is the intense pleasure that just won’t _stop_. He can’t cum really, but he’s so close, so close, so close. The only thing in his way of his high is the rings. The Angel isn’t able to stop the loud and lewd moan that forces its way from his chest. 

The nails of his left hand are digging into his thigh to the point his leggings are ripped and he’s drawn his own blood. That was the only thing that kept him from squirming and writhing. 

His entire body feels like an exposed nerve the longer it goes on. His eyes burn. He doesn’t know if it’s good or if it hurts; it’s just so much. Then, it’s gone. The great Angel left fighting to catch his breath. He tries to hide behind a cough. 

Dorn is staring at him. He can feel all of their eyes on him. There’s a small voice deep inside him that wants to throw himself into the warp at the thought of being caught so weak, unrestrained, and utterly debauched as he is now. Now, though, all that’s at the forefront of his mind is not dropping his head down to drool a puddle on the table. Sanguinius is being forced to remain on the edge, and all he wants, _needs_ , is that release.

“You’re unwell.” Horus’ callused, large hand lands on his shoulder. Sanguinius shudders under his touch. Horus’ warm arms and the memory of his thick cock are so inviting. He’s halfway into Horus’ lap before he stops himself. 

His shivering wings come to wrap around himself. 

“Perhaps, we should take a recess.” Horus frowns, standing. He’s halfway to picking up Sanguinius before Perturabo stands. 

“Let us not postpone this. It won’t be long till you lot are called away from Terra.” He looks so smug, sauntering over to the Angel. “I’ll take him. I doubt I will have much to add to Dorn’s discussion.” 

Dorn lets out a disgruntled scoff, crossing his arms. 

Horus looks between Sanguinius and Perturabo. Whatever pissing match going on between Rogal and Perturabo hardly matters to him with Sanguinius looking so fragile as if he would shake apart within the next few minutes. He locks eyes with Sanguinius and finally notices those hazy eyes and blown pupils. The Angel’s cock is hard, leggings doing nothing to hide it from view. 

The Warmaster narrows his eyes at Perturabo. So, this is the game that the Lord of Iron wants to play. 

“Very well,” He slowly helps his beautiful Angel into his younger brother’s arms. His wings sag weakly, large flight feathers bending against the cold title. “I expect you back within the hour, and you back once you’re well, Sanguinius.” 

Horus glares at him then and whispers quietly to Perturabo. “Should you cause him discomfort, I’ll let Dorn have his pick of every metal and ore in the galaxy before you see an ounce of something as simple as tin.” 

Even the threat doesn’t wipe the grin off Perturabo’s face. Sanguinius' hand lingers in his, even as Perturabo carries him away. 

The last touch Sanguinius gets from Horus is a gentle tap. 

  
_With me. Later_.


	2. Continued

“Bastard,” Sanguinius trembles in his arms. He barely even waits till they’re out of the foyer before reprimanding him. 

Perty dumps him onto the hard title. He's able to catch himself in a way that doesn't crush his right wing beneath him, but his hips ache with the force of his form when he hits the ground. 

"Ah, be nice, little one. I'm still master of your pleasure." Perturado smirks. Sanguinius glares at him. 

"My pleasure." He mocks, rolling his eyes so hard it strains them. "This was a ploy-" 

The pleasure wracks through him again. The beads buzzing to life as strong as before. He can't stop himself from writhing this time. 

Sanguinius thrusts his ass back against nothing. 

"You sing so nicely. I should have thrown you into the middle of the table. Let our brothers watch as the great untouchable 'angel' falls to something as simple as pleasure." 

It's degrading, but Sanguinius moans. He hides his face against the title, his entire body aching with too much.

The clothes he wears are a mess. The tie of his chiton has come undone in his writhing, leaving his chest nearly bare. His nipples are hard, pleading for attention despite being untouched. Then his leggings, the small cuts from his nails have long healed but the holes remain. There's also a sizeable damp spot from his cock as his body tries over and over to cum. The infernal rings having turned that burst of blinding release into a molasses-slow trickle, not that his body understands. Over and over, his back arches and he tries to spill. The rings feel so tight now. 

"Please-" he doesn't even care at how high and needy he sounds. "I can't-" 

The Iron Lord chuckles darkly. There's their  _ glory _ , on his knees face down, ass up. Every few seconds he sobs, hips twitching and wriggling like mad. 

He takes too long admiring because Sanguinius takes matters into his own hands. He forces the leggings down his hips to free his cock. Sanguinius can't remove the rings, only Perturabo himself has the tool for that. It doesn't stop him from trying. He moans the moment he touches his cock. His wings twitch and flex like mad. 

His hole is still wet from the prep they did earlier, the small chain from the beads hanging down drawing attention to the leaking cock between his thighs. He clenches back around them and Perturabo can’t help but turn up the vibrations of the beads inside.

“Perty, Perty,  _ please _ ,” Sanguinius  _ writhes  _ on the floor before him. Anyone could pass them seeing the beautiful primarch begging for Perturabo’s cock. 

Dorn would lecture that the display would stroke his ego too much. And he wouldn’t even disagree. Having power over their strongest, stunning brother was more than enough to make his cock twitch. 

He did tell Horus he’d take care of “his precious Angel.” Perturabo chuckles darkly, settling on his knees between the Blood Angel’s legs. He gives the chain a hard tug pulling it to stretch that pretty pink hole. Sanguinius’ hips go up with the pull further, hands and gorgeous face pressed against the white marble. 

“ _ T-Throne, _ ” He whimpers under Perturabo’s teasing. 

The stretch is so, so good. Those beads are ungodly large, and Sanguinius is embarrassed at how much he loves the feeling of it held inside at the widest point. Perturabo’s wide form leans over his mostly unclothed back. The chiton was a breath away from falling off his shoulder. He can feel this brother’s warm breath against his back, his feathers, his neck. The cold of Perturabo’s metal enhancements nearly burns him. 

A cold hand grasps his cock and Sanguinius gasps. His blood feels as if it will boil in his veins, everything is so much. He feels Perturabo’s thumb press into the hooked bead of the ring against the slit of his cock, and Sanguinius wails. His wings spasm nearly throwing Perturabo off balance. 

“ _ I can’t- _ ” Sanguinius sobs, actually sobs. 

He’s starting to babble broken pleads. Perturabo might be able to get drunk on this feeling of power if it continues. As soon as the Angel settles back to his trembling, he unlocks the first ring at the base of his cock letting it ping to the hard floor. 

The Lord of Iron grips the fabric of the chiton ripping off the Angel’s body before tossing it aside. His shoulders are flushed red, vivid against his pale wings. A glance at the large windows to their side sparks a few ideas into Perturabo’s mind. How wonderful would it be for a patrol to pass by or even a few of Sanguinius’ sons to see what an utter whore their gene-father was?

“Let me cum,” Sanguinius cries. “ _ Need- _ ” 

“Oh, you  _ need  _ to do you?” Perturabo laughs. He stands then pulling the Angel up with him to drag him over to the window. Sanguinius is limp against him; his legs tremble to hold himself up. “What you  _ need  _ to do is show all of Terra how nice you sing from a cock inside you. You’re the dream of thousands. Do you know? Thousands more, I’m sure, think about how lovely you look flushed like this.” 

Sanguinius shutters against him, hands clambering to brace himself against the glass. There’s an audible click of the ring under the head of his cock hitting the glass which does something to Perturabo. Everything about this is filthy and lewd. 

Sanguinius’ legs tremble under his own weight, Perturabo can see him collapsing a moment away. Though, he gets enough time to release his already hard cock. 

His brain feels as if it’s in a haze. Perturabo’s large hands grip his thighs picking him up before he falls to his knees between his brother and the glass. The new position exposes him even more so, ring hitting the glass and his cock smearing precum against the glass. It’s embarrassing. 

Perturabo’s thick cock presses against him, and Sanguinius keens.

“The toys-” He whines, struggling in his brother’s arm. 

“You’ll take what you get if you want to cum.” Perturabo growls. 

His cock forces the beads deeper inside. It’s so much, so much. Sanguinius can hardly control his whimpering or twitching form. A shaky sigh leaves him when Perturabo hilts inside. It’s quickly becoming clear to the somewhat functioning parts of Sanguinius’ brain that if he can get Perturabo off, the bastard might let him finally come as well.

The Angel is heaven around his cock, hot and tight despite the prep they’d done that morning. It’s no wonder Horus enjoys keeping Sanguinius all to himself with how he arches, wings shaking, that head of blonde curls coming to rest against Perturabo’s shoulder. He grips Sanguinius' hips hard enough to bruise, finally starting to fuck that pliant body in earnest. Perturabo rests his hand on the toned, pale stomach of the Angel, every hard thrust that hilt presses and fucks the bead inside him. They press hard against that toned stomach from the inside. It’s absolutely vulgar. 

“ _ Perty _ ,” Sanguinius is drooling. All and all, he’s done well. He having made it through quite literal hours of teasing. “ _ Please _ .”

The Angel says it like a prayer, begging. If only Lorgar were here to heed his pleads. 

For once, the Lord of Iron decides to take mercy, releasing the second ring. He doesn’t even have to stroke Sanguinius' cock to have him cum. He’s gone the moment the ring comes off. He clinches down tight as he cums; his body trying to milk Perturabo’s cock. He cums inside the Angel with a grunt. Sanguinius whines against him. The moment he pulls away, the Angel collapses, a mess leaking from his ass as he clenches around the toy inside. 

“I’m starting to see why the others find you so beautiful.” The Lord of Iron laughs darkly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sweats* I wasn't going to finish this but then my future wife held me at gunpoint. 
> 
> YO LOOK AT THIS MAGNUS THOUGH  
> https://twitter.com/ragnaroknsfw/status/1344456500601876481?s=20

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos sustain me. Feel free to correct my lore and characterization. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Consider Looking at this Sanguinius pin-up the love of my life drew for me. It's very good. https://twitter.com/ragnaroknsfw/status/1342676786128293890


End file.
